


to the waters and the wild

by Hirikka



Series: speak of destiny as if it was fixed [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, BAMF Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Established Relationship, Fae & Fairies, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Family Feels, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-Canon, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirikka/pseuds/Hirikka
Summary: Daemon AU! On the eve of midsummer, Ciri is excited to go on her first solo hunt. After several years of traveling with Geralt and Jaskier she is sure she is ready for this—Geralt is not so sure. Meanwhile, the solstice has brought realms closer, and Ciri is kidnapped by the fae. Jaskier and his daemon have to finally reveal their last secret as he and Geralt try to find a way to save their daughter. That is, if she doesn't manage to save herself first.(this is part of a series but can absolutely be read as a stand-alone fic)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: speak of destiny as if it was fixed [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675786
Comments: 25
Kudos: 366
Collections: Geraskier Midsummer Mini Bang





	to the waters and the wild

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta [goshdraws](https://goshdraws.tumblr.com/)and my lovely artist [ravenclawkward](https://ravenclawkward-art.tumblr.com/)!  
> You were both absolutely fantastic, and I am so glad I got to work on this with you!
> 
> **
> 
> This is a stand-alone story set in the speak of destiny as if it was fixed series. You don’t need to read that for this fic, as it takes place several years after the main story.

Cirilla rose before the dawn, planning to go out and start running through her warmups. She was antsy, excited to be going on her first solo mission. Of course, Geralt and Jaskier were going to be staying in the town, so it wasn’t as though she was completely on her own. But it would be her first time facing a monster on her own.

“There’s no reason to be awake right now,” Artaxias yawned.

“Don’t be so lazy.” Ciri rolled her eyes.

Art just closed his amber eyes, pretending to be asleep. Ciri snorted but let him be while she strapped on her armor and double checked her swords. 

Eventually, Art stretched and stood up. “They are awake.” 

Ciri grinned at him, practically skipping as she rushed to the door and across the hall of the inn to the room Geralt and Jaskier were in.

“I’m ready!” she announced.

Geralt was already up, dressed for the day, with Lilura sitting by his side. Jaskier was still in bed, looking disgruntled to be awake so early.

“Do you want to go over everything again?” Geralt asked.

“No, I’m ready for this. I’ve _been_ ready.”

Geralt hummed, looking concerned.

Jaskier climbed out of bed, dragging the blanket with him even though it was already growing hot in the room. “Geralt, don’t worry so much; she’ll do great.” He threw an arm around Geralt’s shoulders, leaning against the witcher.

“Hm. Fine,” Geralt agreed reluctantly. “If you need us—”

“I know,” Ciri interrupted. “I have the xenovox. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

**

Ciri and Artaxias moved silently through the woods. They had scouted the area yesterday with Geralt, knew the lay of the land around the giant centipede. The snap of a branch behind her made her freeze. There was something following her. Ciri and Art separated, circling around the source of sound. Creeping closer they found— 

“Lilura? What are you doing here?”

The wolf wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“You and Geralt promised to let me do this on my own!” Ciri snapped, hating the way her voice cracked. “You lied.” Art growled, and Ciri turned away. “I should have known you’d never give me a real chance.” 

“Ciri, Art,” Lilura said, tension clear in her tone, “we didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Go back, Lilura,” Art snarled.

“I can do this on my own!” Ciri turned away and marched into the woods. Artaxias lingered for a moment, watching as Lilura turned back towards the village.

**

The hunt went fine. She had a small cut on her arm and a few bruises. Any pain from her injuries paled in comparison to the frustration with Geralt and Lilura. The uncomfortable idea that they didn’t trust her, didn’t believe in her abilities. She and Art were both still in a foul mood by the time they reached the outskirts of the town. Finding Geralt and Lilura waiting for them didn't help. 

“How could you?” Ciri asked, stopping a few feet from them. Geralt looked like he was going to respond, but Ciri didn’t actually want to hear it. She stormed past him, steadfastly ignoring the wounded look on his face. 

Art pressed close, and she buried her fingers in his mane, hoping for something to ease the tension she felt. They could hear Jaskier playing when they reached the inn, which suited them. If they talked to Jaskier, he would undoubtedly be able to smooth things out between her and Geralt. Right now, she wanted to be angry. They slipped in quietly, making it up to their room without being stopped. After locking the door, Ciri dropped into her bed fully dressed, suddenly exhausted.

She fell asleep without realizing it. The last thing she remembered was the faint smell of tansy in the air. 

**

The smell of tansy was the first sign that something was wrong. Jaskier woke first, which rarely happened, but he could feel the magic in the air. He shifted, de-tangling himself from Geralt and Lilura on the bed. Solidago flew to the door, waiting. 

Jaskier padded across the room, careful not to make any noise. He slid the door open and followed Sol into the hallway, closing the door behind them. The tansy smell was stronger in the hallway.

“It’s coming from Ciri’s room,” Sol said, fluffing his feathers nervously.

“Shit,” Jaskier hissed, crossing to the room and touching the door. It was still locked. 

“Shit,” Jaskier said, again, pressing his magic into the door. Normally, he would be more careful not to use his magic where Geralt would notice. Hopefully the tansy smell was strong enough to cover the small magic he had to use to open the door.

The room reeked of fae magic, the scent cloying. It was also empty. Jaskier crossed the room to the bed, where a single buttercup lay on the pillow.

Jaskier let out a half hysterical laugh.

“At least it was someone from the Seelie court,” Solidago said. He sounded as hopeless as Jaskier felt. There was no way they would be able to reclaim Cirilla and Artaxias without going to the one place he had sworn he would never visit again. And he would need to tell Geralt.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier whirled around to see Geralt and Lilura standing in the doorway. Jaskier had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed the witcher approach.

**

The cloying scent of flowers and magic woke Geralt and Lilura. They were alone in the room. They both rose silently, heading to the door. The door across the hall was open, and they could see Jaskier and Solidago standing alone in the room. On high alert, they entered the room, trying to see what had happened.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked. The other man smelled of _fear,_ an acrid ozone smell, like the air before a thunderstorm. 

Lilura’s hackles raised. “Where are Ciri and Art?”

Geralt took a deep breath. Something powerful had been here, but he couldn’t identify it. He tried to focus on concrete actions. On doing something rather than giving in to the frantic worry at the thought of something happening to their child. “There’s strong magic in here. I’ll contact Yennefer.” 

“She won’t be able to help,” Jaskier sighed, sitting down on the bed. The fear smell was still there, tinged with anxiety. 

“She won’t?” He didn’t know why Jaskier sounded so sure, so resigned. 

“No.” Jaskier wasn’t making eye contact. Geralt resisted the urge to go to him, to offer comfort; he didn’t want to see Jaskier upset, but he needed to know what had happened. 

“They were taken by the Tylwyth Teg. Yennefer won’t be able to help with this,” Jaskier explained.

The _Tylwyth Teg_. Geralt tried to recall if he had heard the name before. A type of fae, he was sure, which would explain the strangeness of the magical signature in the room. He couldn’t recall any details of the race. 

“And how do you know that?” Geralt asked. He couldn’t think of a reason that Jaskier would be able to identify a specific group of the fae. He felt like he was missing _something._

“They left a calling card,” Solidago answered for Jaskier. He sounded angry, frustrated. Jaskier had picked up a single buttercup from the pillow and was holding it up for Geralt to see.

“A buttercup?” Geralt frowned at the flower. It didn’t seem to be anything special itself.

“Why would they leave a calling card for you?” Lilura asked. 

Jaskier grimaced. “It would have been”—he waved a hand—“impolite, I suppose, to take someone in my care without notifying me.”

Geralt took a step towards him, then stopped. He hated to see his bard upset, but Ciri was still missing, and he needed to know what was going on. “Explain,” he snapped. 

Jaskier winced at Geralt’s tone, but Geralt couldn’t let himself relent. Not while it was so clear that Jaskier knew more than he was saying. Solidago jumped into Jaskier’s lap, plucking the buttercup out of Jaskier’s hand and pressing close. Jaskier immediately switched to running his fingers through the daemon’s feathers.

“I—” Jaskier looked around a little helplessly. “I’m…” he trailed off again and then sighed. 

Geralt’s medallion vibrated, and the tansy smell was overpowered by a sweet petrichor scent as Jaskier dropped a _glamour._ Jaskier was looking down at Solidago in his lap, but Geralt could immediately see differences: his hair looked as though it had been gilded, his ears long and pointed.

“I’m not human,” Jaskier said.

Geralt opened his mouth, not sure what to say, but knowing he needed to say something. 

Luckily, Jaskier continued before he could find any words. “But I can get Ciri and Art back! It’s midsummer; the walls between the worlds are so thin. It will be easy to cross over. I can bring you, and we can get Ciri and Art back safely. I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Jaskier was tense, hunched over, and he looked like he was about to start rambling again. “Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted, still not entirely knowing what to say.

Jaskier took a deep breath and looked up. Geralt immediately lost any train of thought he might have had. Jaskier’s eyes, normally such an unusual shade of blue, were even more intense. He looked similar, but somehow _more, clearer,_ as though the version of Jaskier that Geralt had seen until now had been obscured. 

“We knew you weren’t human,” Lilura said. Geralt glared at her; it was _true_ but probably not the most helpful thing to say. 

Jaskier’s wide-eyed look shifted to focus on Lilura.

“Geralt might be oblivious,” Lilura continued. Geralt grunted in annoyance, and she grinned. “But I’m not. I did notice that you don’t age.”

“Huh,” Jaskier said. He still looked on the verge of panicking, so Geralt moved closer. He reached out, placing a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“We didn’t know what,” Geralt said, voice soft, “but it didn’t matter. We know you. We trust you.”

Jaskier let out a little gasping sob, and Geralt pulled him up and into a hug. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder, taking several shuddering breaths. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier whispered, still pressed close to Geralt.

“Hm,” Geralt rumbled, not exactly sure what to say. Geralt was hurt that Jaskier hadn’t told him and hadn't trusted him with this information. He had thought he had been making progress in the years since they had reunited, had done his best to prove that he cared about Jaskier, wouldn’t push him away. They would need to deal with this, but it could wait.

“Now, how do we get the pup back?” Lilura asked. 

Jaskier pulled away reluctantly. “Right, okay.” Jaskier clapped his hands together. He looked around the room, clearly thinking. “Geralt, you’ll want to go out and see if you can find any kind of iron weapon. I need to go and pick up a few supplies, as well.” Jaskier looked out the window of the inn, the market that had sprung up for midsummer was already bustling. “It shouldn’t be hard to get what we will need. Meet back here in an hour?”

Geralt nodded. “We’ll get them back.” He tried to convey as much confidence as he could. He ran a hand over Lilura’s head before setting out into the town.

**

Ciri came back to herself in a room crowded with figures - some looked almost human but many defied description. She knew she couldn’t be distracted, needed to keep her focus on the crowned figure in front of her. 

“Let me go,” Ciri growled, staring up at the ethereal face of the crowned woman. Trying to maintain eye contact but distracted by the flashing blue and red of the little fish that seemed to swim through the air around the woman’s face.

“Oh dear,” the woman said in a soft voice, “not a very polite way to respond to our hospitality.”

“You kidnapped us,” Ciri snapped.

The woman laughed, the sound somehow like the rippling of water.

With a yell, Ciri charged towards the woman. She might not have her weapons on hand, but she could still fight. Strong arms the color and texture of bark caught her easily, holding her as she struggled and snapped.

“Take her away,” the woman said. “I grow tired of this.”

Whatever was holding her started to drag her from the room. Artaxias followed growling low under his breath.

**

Jaskier was braiding a flower crown when Geralt returned, humming quietly. The whole room smelled of flowers and magic and petrichor. 

“Did you find something?” Jaskier asked, fingers still working over the flowers. 

Geralt nodded, showing the two iron daggers he had purchased. Solidago, who had been greeting Lilura, fluttered away with a displeased noise.

“Sorry,” Geralt told him, returning the daggers to their sheaths. 

“It’s fine,” Sol said, ruffling his feathers. 

“Come sit,” Jaskier instructed, placing the flower crown on his own head. Geralt walked over, sitting where Jaskier indicated.

“I’m going to braid the flowers into your hair; less chance of them falling off,” Jaskier explained. 

“What are they for?” Geralt asked, picking up a sprig of rosemary.

“They’ll help to ward off enchantments. Keep you from falling prey to any fairy lures.”

“Hm,” Geralt rumbled, closing his eyes. Jaskier seemed more settled and confident now, and Geralt knew that together, they would be able to find Ciri and Art. For now, he let himself relax and enjoy the sensation of Jaskier’s hands combing through his hair. 

“Rosemary is for remembrance, so you don’t forget why we are in the _Knowe_ ,” Jaskier explained, as he added the plants to the braid. “Bittersweet and white chrysanthemum for truth, purple columbine for resolution, edelweiss for courage, and zinnia is for thoughts of lost friends—it should help us find Cirilla.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said when Jaskier finished. 

Jaskier smiled at him. “It’s the least I can do.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Geralt insisted, taking Jaskier’s hand. 

“We don’t know that,” Jaskier snapped, pulling away.

“Hm.”

“What else do we need?” Lilura asked. Geralt shot her a grateful look; she was always better at redirecting conversations than he was. She was better at words in general.

“Right.” Jaskier padded over to the table, picking up a small jar. “This is fairy ointment.” He came over to kneel in front of Geralt. “Close your eyes.”

Geralt did, feeling as Jaskier reached out and touched his eyelids with the ointment. It was cooler than he had expected and tingled slightly. Jaskier added a small amount under his eyes. “It will allow you to see through glamours. Lilura should have some as well.” Geralt opened his eyes as Jaskier pressed the jar into his hands.

“You do it,” Geralt rumbled, hoping this show of trust would help to settle the bard.

Jaskier blinked at him for a moment, and then Lilura was beside him. “Please,” she added quietly. 

Jaskier nodded quickly, reaching out to anoint Lilura, as gentle and careful as he ever was. Geralt felt the warm rush of safety and love that still left him breathless. 

Then Jaskier was up and moving again, tossing a little packet to Geralt. “Salt. Keep that in your pocket.” He glanced around the room. “I think that should be everything. The silver sword won’t do you any good, but steel can hurt the fae, so you ought to bring that along.” 

Geralt nodded, getting to his feet and settling the steel sword into its sheath. 

Jaskier swung his lute over his shoulder, a second flower crown secured to it. 

“Keep this with you,” Jaskier said, pressing a second jar of the fairy ointment into Geralt’s hand, “just in case we’re separated. If it no longer feels cool, it’s wearing off. Make sure to put more on right away.”

“Alright,” Geralt agreed, tucking it into a pocket.

“We should go now,” Solidago said. “We want to cross before high noon. Any later and we may have trouble getting through.”

“Right. Okay,” Jaskier agreed, leading the way out of the room.

**

“What should we know about the Tylwyth Teg?” Geralt asked as they headed out of town. 

Solidago was flying loops around them, looking for something. Geralt noticed that without the glamour, the iridescent feathers on the magpie daemon seemed to flash with new colors, flashes of purples and pinks bright against the normal blues and greens.

“They're skilled in alchemy and illusions, which is why the ointment is key. Obviously, don’t eat and drink anything while we are there. Besides the normal binding powers, it is liable to have some odd effects. Of course, they are particularly fond of golden-haired children.”

Bitterness spiked in his scent. Geralt looked at him again. Even with the shimmer in his hair, it was not golden.

Jaskier seemed to sense Geralt’s appraisal. “I’m a changeling. They stole away a little blond child and left me in his place.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so he just reached over and took Jaskier’s hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

**

The room they left her in did not seem to have a door once the guard had left. Ciri _screamed_ —tried to tap into the very depths of her power, but nothing happened. The room stayed the same, a deep dark blue the same color on the walls, floor, and ceiling. 

She wasn’t sure how long she spent in that room, long enough that she had stopped trying to find a way out. Instead she slumped in the corner, waiting and watching for the door to open again. Ready to leap into action at the first sign of movement. 

So of course they didn’t enter through a door; one moment, the room was empty, and the next, there was a flash of teal scales as a small serpent appeared. The blues of its scales almost blended into the rest of the room, but its bright golden eyes stood out, fixed on her as it scented the air. 

Ciri tilted her head, trying to figure out what the creature was. It wasn’t a daemon, not _exactly._ She wasn’t sure what that could mean until the creature shifted in a way that was impossible to describe, to understand, and then there were two beings in the room. The snake was still there, but there was also a girl. The girl’s wild tangle of hair was the same shade of blue as the snake, and she had the same bright golden eyes.

In a second, Ciri was on her feet, pressing the girl against the wall, one arm at the girl's throat while Art snarled at the snake. The girl didn’t resist, and Ciri had the feeling that if she had wanted to avoid the attack it would have been easy for her. 

“You are fierce, little cat.” The girl’s voice was lower than Ciri had expected. “I’m afraid that won’t help you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Ciri asked, trying to sound fierce and not as afraid as she felt.

The girl smiled. “I’ve never seen anyone resist a glamour so completely.” She slid out of Ciri’s grip, moving a few steps away with a sinuous grace. “I was intrigued.” She reached down, picking up the snake and draping it around her neck. Both kept their gaze fixed on Ciri. 

“Do you know how I can get out of here?” Ciri asked. “Or did you just come here to stare?”

“Of course _I_ know how to get out…” The girl ran a hand along one wall, and the outline of a door appeared along with the faint smell of evergreens. “But”—the girl put a hand up to stop Ciri who had already started for the door—“I’m not just _letting_ you out.”

“What do you want?” 

“Nothing much.” She tugged on a lock of her blue hair, suddenly seeming almost nervous. “I want you to lead me to the mortal realm.”

“What for?” 

“The queen, Indrani, placed a geas on me. The details aren’t important. What is important is that I cannot leave this place on my own.”

Ciri and Art exchanged a glance, before Ciri shrugged. “Show me how to get out of this room, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Lovely.” The girl grinned, and the snake around her neck coiled tighter. 

**

Jaskier followed the distant sounds of water until they reached a clear stream far enough from the town that they wouldn’t have to worry about passerbys stumbling upon them.

“What now?” Geralt asked.

Sol, somewhere up ahead, called out. Jaskier followed the call, leading Geralt and Lilura to the fairy circle that Solidago had spotted. The bright sun didn’t seem to reach through the trees here, and they could no longer hear birdsong. The ring, made of closely growing violet coral mushrooms, was near a bend in the river. 

“Once I’ve stepped in, draw a circle of salt around the outside of the ring,” Jaskier instructed, keeping his voice soft. It felt wrong to break the stillness of this place. “That will keep anything from using our door to get out, and it will, hopefully, stop anyone who might follow us on our way back.”

Geralt nodded. Jaskier sat down and pulled out his lute, playing a quiet song as Geralt completed the circle. Carefully, he and Lilura stepped over both rings to join Jaskier and Solidago.

“Ready?” Geralt asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jaskier said and _pushed_ his magic outwards, reaching out until he found the door. Then he took Geralt’s hand to pull him into the _Knowe._

**

Geralt blinked as his eyes adjusted to dim light. They were standing in a long hallway with wide windows looking out over a dilapidated courtyard. It was twilight outside, the sky painted in shades of blues and purples. The stones of the hall were littered with dried leaves that crunched under their feet as Jaskier led the way down the hall. The air was heavy with magic. Geralt shivered, uneasy in the stillness.

“Where is everyone?” Lilura asked, voice soft.

“The fae celebrate midsummer. They are probably all gathered in one of the great halls,” Jaskier said. 

“They will know we have come,” Solidago added. “Be wary.”

**

The hall seemed to stretch on forever.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

Jaskier shrugged. “Not really.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier flashed him a humorous smile. “They wanted us to come. We’ll end up where we need to be.”

Geralt huffed again but didn’t argue. Although the corridors they passed appeared empty, he could feel eyes on him. It made him uneasy to know that their enemies were watching, but he couldn’t see them. He wished he had brought more potions with him, even if he knew it would be foolish to try to fight the fae in their own land. 

Another minute of walking brought them to a large chamber with an ornate door at the other end. There was a guard standing by the door, wearing armor that looked as though it was made of burnished leaves. The guard stepped forward, his daemon emerging from the shadows at his side. The daemon was an inky black panther, except when it stood, it had too many legs and what looked like tentacles coming out of its shoulders.

Geralt grimaced; the creature was unsettling. The fae guard bared a row of sharp teeth in what could have been a smile or a threat.

“Master Dandelion,” the guard rumbled, “I see you have finally accepted our queen’s invitation.”

Jaskier tensed, and Solidago on his shoulder puffed up his feathers. Geralt placed a hand on his lower back, helping to ground him. 

“May we enter?” Jaskier asked.

“Of course.” The guard waved them forward, pushing the door open. 

Geralt followed Jaskier, keeping close. The strange panther daemon moved towards them as they passed, and Lilura snarled at it. The creature bared its fangs but remained silent and returned to the guard’s side. 

**

“If we see anyone, make sure not to give them your true name. Don’t thank anyone either; it implies a Debt and might be used to keep you here.”

Ciri nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” The girl pressed her hand against one of the walls. “You can call us Adder. Come along.” An evergreen smell filled the room, and then a door swung open.

Ciri paused outside the room, taking in the opulent hallway before her. Elaborate tapestries hung on the walls, and she could hear the quiet murmurs of voices from the rooms around them. 

“Odd place to put a prison cell,” Artaxias muttered.

“That’s not really how this works.” 

“How _does_ it work?” Ciri asked.

Adder shrugged, starting to walk down the hall. “That room sort of exists separately from the rest of the castle. Still part of the _Knowe_ but not entirely attached. So I opened it to an area that would give us the easiest access to a door back out into the mortal realm.”

The sound of voices grew louder, and Adder froze for a moment before reaching up to the snake around her neck and placing him on the floor. He quickly disappeared from sight.

“What’s happening?” Ciri whispered.

Adder closed her eyes and was silent for an agonizingly long moment before she opened them and sighed. “It appears you have someone foolish enough to come looking for you and go stumbling right into Indrani’s lair.”

Ciri’s eyes widened, and Art hissed in alarm. “We have to help them!”

“I thought you might say that. Come along princess.”

**

Standing before the court was surreal. The colors of the fae and their daemons were enthralling, could have distracted him for endless hours, but Jaskier fixed his gaze on the queen. She had fair skin, pale blue eyes, and the golden hair that was so prized among their people, pulled up into an elaborate series of braids. The throne she was seated on looked as if it had been grown from coral, twining branches curled up and around. The smell of saltwater grew stronger as they approached the throne. 

“I see you received our invitation. Welcome to my court,” the queen murmured, voice quiet but still perfectly clear even over the whispers of the crowd.

Jaskier tilted his head, trying to decide if he should be polite or get straight to the point.

“You took something of ours,” Solidago rasped, making the decision for him.

“Something of yours?” The queen stood. Darting around her was a school of tiny fish, flashing with light reflected from the candelabra.

Jaskier pulled himself to his full height and squared his shoulders. “Our daughter. You have no claim to her.”

The queen laughed. “I need no claim; I am a queen, little changeling. I can take what I like.”

Geralt growled, the sound echoing in the odd chamber. “Give her back.”

The queen looked at him appraisingly. “And what would you give us in return?”

Geralt moved slightly, hand reaching instinctively for a weapon. Jaskier put a hand on his arm to stop him before he could start a fight they would have no way of winning.

“She is not a thing to be bartered,” Jaskier replied, trying to keep his tone even. “Let her have a choice. Let her have what you denied to me.”

“We invited you to come home,” a woman said, stepping out of the crowd. She was taller than the queen but looked similar enough that Jaskier guessed they might be siblings.

“Only after I gained enough fame that you thought I would bring glory to your court,” Jaskier countered, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“It is an _honor_ for a changeling to be invited home,” the woman spat. “You should be grateful.”

“Enough Breena,” the queen hissed. She stood, walking closer to them, the fish still circling around her. The woman continued to glare at them but didn’t speak again. 

“You ought to watch your tongue, changeling, if you want us to treat with you.”

Jaskier resisted the urge to snap something in response. “What do you want?”

The queen considered this. “I will accept payment if you truly do not wish to stay.”

“We have gold,” Geralt offered, hoping to bring an end to this.

The queen laughed. “I have no need for gold or human wealth. No”—she drew slightly closer—“I wish for something more… interesting in payment.”

“What then?” Jaskier snapped.

The queen’s gaze flicked between Jaskier and the lute on his back. “A passion. Something or”—her pale blue eyes shifted to Geralt—“some _one_ you care about as fiercely as you do your child.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, voice urgent.

“It will be fine,” Jaskier said quietly. “I have a plan.”

Jaskier turned his attention back to the fairy queen, but his gaze caught on a small, bright blue snake slithering into the room, followed closely by a young fae woman and _Ciri._

**

Geralt felt a wave of relief and then panic when Ciri strode into the room, following a blue-haired fae.

The queen followed his gaze and frowned for a moment before her expression smoothed. “I see your wayward child has joined us, Dandelion.”

Geralt watched with narrowed eyes as the guard with the strange panther-like daemon moved into the room, closing in towards the blue-haired girl. 

“Well,” Jaskier drew out the word, taking in the scene around them, “that should simply make this exchange easier, yes?”

The queen tore her attention away from Ciri and her companion—captor?—and looked back to Jaskier. “I suppose so.”

Geralt kept his gaze focused on Ciri. If Jaskier said he had a plan, Geralt trusted him enough to believe that, in this case at least, it wouldn’t cause more trouble.

Ciri cast a concerned look towards Jaskier. The blue-haired girl leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Geralt tensed, ready for whatever might be about to happen. He could see Lilura’s hackles raise as she, too, sensed the tension like a building storm. He watched, helpless, as Jaskier strode towards the queen. As Ciri and Art cut their way through the room to stand between Jaskier and the queen. Artaxias stopped to whisper something, too low for Geralt to hear, while Ciri faced the queen. 

“I’m leaving,” Ciri announced, voice ringing in the sudden hush of the hall, “with my family. You are not going to stop me.”

The queen laughed, although Geralt could tell she was ill at ease. “Why would I do that?” the queen asked.

Ciri flashed a feral smile. “Because the other option is that I _force_ you to let us leave.”

The queen’s gaze flicked to the blue-haired fae and back to Ciri, a small frown creasing her features.

“ _Indrani,”_ Ciri hissed, voice dropping to a whisper, “you don’t want me to have to use your true name, do you? Here, in front of your whole court?”

“What have you done, Adder?” The queen’s attention snapped back to the fae, who had sauntered up to stand by Ciri’s side.

“Oh no, was I not supposed to share your name? You never mentioned…” Adder said, mock concern in her tone. 

Indrani hissed, beautiful face twisted in impotent rage. 

“Well”—Adder tugged on Ciri’s arm—“I think that’s our cue.” She turned back to the queen. “Do not try this again.”

Ciri ran to Jaskier, pulling him into a brief hug before taking his hand and tugging him back to Geralt. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling a rush of relief as Lilura examined Art to make sure the younger daemon was unharmed. 

“Time to go,” Jaskier said, placing a crown woven of the same types of flowers that he had given to Geralt on Ciri’s head. “I don’t know if you need this; you seem to be handling yourself quite well, darling.”

Sol rasped a warning call, and Geralt looked up to see that the other fae were moving towards them—not exactly aggressive but likely to be a problem if they lingered. With a determined nod, Jaskier took Geralt and Ciri’s hands in his and started to march towards the door out of the hall. Geralt noticed Ciri extend her free-hand to Adder but didn’t comment. He just focused on glaring at any fae that came too close to their little group. 

The door to the hall opened, and as they stepped through, they found themselves back in the fairy circle Jaskier had found. The sun was setting, the sky above painted in reds and purples. 

Geralt broke the salt ring, and they all stepped out of the circle. Once everyone was out, he reset it. It wouldn’t hold forever but perhaps long enough that the solstice would pass and travel between the realms would become more difficult.

**

Ciri trailed behind Geralt and Jaskier slightly, not far enough to be out of hearing—she knew that they both would be on edge for days at least, needing to know where she was at all times—but she wanted at least a moment of privacy.

“You did well,” Adder said. Her serpent daemon coiled around her neck again, tongue flickering as he tasted their new environment.

“I’m glad we were able to help each other,” Ciri said with a small smile.

“As am I.” Adder stopped. “I believe this is where our paths diverge, princess.”

Ciri dropped into a proper curtsy, somewhat marred by the fact that she was wearing trousers rather than a skirt, but it made Adder laugh, so she was going to count it as a win. “I hope our paths cross again.” 

Adder flashed a bright grin, and then instead of girl and daemon, there was only the smell of evergreen and a blue serpent disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Ciri waited for another moment before Art nudged at her legs, and she trotted to catch up with the rest of her pack. 

**

“What were you going to give her?” Geralt asked sometime later, when they were all safely tucked up in a tavern, with newly created wards made of woven flowers.

“What?” Jaskier looked up from his notebook. “Oh. My rivalry with Valdo Marx. It’s a great passion in its own way.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “You care about that as much as you care for Ciri?”

“Of course not,” Jaskier scoffed, “but the fae forget that changelings can _lie_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The Stolen Child" by W.B. Yeats  
> I borrowed a bunch of the fey lore in this from the October Daye series by Seanan McGuire.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Daemons:  
> Indrani - [Cardinal Tetras](https://www.reef2rainforest.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/100_cardinals_screenshot.jpg)  
> Adder - [white-lipped pit viper](https://66.media.tumblr.com/55537736bed0e5742ca4dbb8a394d8e1/tumblr_pcovorNuzE1tkalkoo1_1280.jpg)  
> Guard - [Displacer Beast](https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/84759331_2629011910677322_526760185323061248_o.jpg?_nc_cat=108&_nc_sid=8024bb&_nc_ohc=XWdgp21vHu0AX-oAPi7&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.xx&oh=9a1d97f544fd222ef237dfe258408a90&oe=5F12FFAF) (art by BogelBear)


End file.
